


Sore Muscles

by Brynn_Jones



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Massage, Pre-Slash, Quidditch Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3335294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynn_Jones/pseuds/Brynn_Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco get friendly after a Quidditch match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sore Muscles

      After his first Quidditch match against Slytherin of the year, Harry took his time getting out of his Seeker robes before heading to the showers. He hated sharing the small washroom with other players, especially if those players were slimy gits who lived to make his life miserable. Honestly, who thought it was a good idea to build a shared shower room for Hogwarts' Quidditch teams? He could write a very long and detailed list of things you can do to make someone's shower insufferable, all from his own experience.

      At the beginning of the second year, however, he started a ritual. He would always take his sweet time putting away his broom, undressing himself and folding his clothes, so that by the time he entered the showers, there was hardly ever anyone there. Except for a few occasions in his third year, the strategy worked like a charm and he could wash himself without worrying about his health and dignity.

      Therefore, when he finally entered the washroom that day, he didn't expect to see anyone in the showers, let alone the bane of his existence, Malfoy. The Slytherin protégé was usually one of the first ones to shower, not wanting to wait for his turn and not willing to stand in someone else's dirt. The git was standing under the magically warmed spray of water now, his back turned to Harry. He had his head tipped back, hair slick with lather, a tired grimace on his face and he was huffing quietly in indignation. Harry froze in the doorway, towel in hand. Malfoy should've looked ridiculous, his poncy face all scrunched up, his wet hair dirty blond and his muscles tight, yet Harry had never seen him look so pretty.

      He decided to make his presence know, if only to rid himself of his absurd thoughts. "Good match, huh?" he said as sarcastically as he could manage.

      Malfoy startled, rubbing a bit of shampoo lather into his eyes accidentally. "Shove off, Potter."

      Harry frowned. "The showers don't belong to you, you git. I can use them whenever I want to."

      Malfoy managed to rinse his eyes out and turned to glare at the opposing Seeker over his shoulder. "You're right, Scarhead, the shower after a match is most likely the only hygiene you're getting anyway. Who am I to take it away from you?"

      Harry shed his pants and stepped under his own spray of water. "You talk too much for someone who has just gotten his arse kicked."

      Malfoy scoffed. "You just got lucky."

      "Oh please, you wouldn't have caught the Snitch had I pointed it out for you."

      The Slytherin snorted and turned off his shower. "Nonsense, I'm good and you know it."

      "Good's not good enough."

      Malfoy picked up his towel and began drying himself off, while Harry pointedly didn't look at him.

      "Quit staring, Potter."

      Harry cursed silently under his breath at being caught looking anyway, then put on a smirk. "I can't help it, you're so pretty."

      The blonde student did something spectacular then, he blushed. "Shut up, you imbecile."

      Harry revelled in the power he currently had over the Slytherin. "What? Can't a bloke admire a pretty thing?"

      Malfoy put on clean pair of pants, Harry noticed they were silk, then huffed. "I'm not pretty, I'm handsome."

      Harry pretended to think about it as he turned off his shower. "No, I don't think so. You are undoubtedly very pretty."

      Malfoy huffed again but didn't look as offended anymore. "You do realize you have just complimented me several times, right?"

      The Gryffindor shrugged. "Yeah, so?"

      And as simple as that Malfoy looked flustered again. "Shut up."

      Harry snickered and went to pull on his own pants, watching Malfoy as he searched for something in his bag, noticing again how tightly wound up he seemed. The blonde finally pulled out a jar of green goo and threw it at Harry, obviously regaining his composure once again. "Here, make yourself useful."

      Harry had no idea what to do. "Wha- w- wait- what?"

      "Eloquent as always, Potter," sneered Malfoy in a very passable imitation of their resident Potion Master. "It's a muscle reliever, put it on my back would you?"

      The Gryffindor stared. "Now why would I want to do that?"

      Malfoy fluttered his eyelids. "Because I'm pretty?"

      Harry stared some more. "You're serious. You really want me to put this on your back?"

      The only answer he got, was Malfoy laying down on one of the benches in the middle of the room.

      Harry shivered slightly at the sight of the blond boy spread out on his stomach casually, then gathered his courage. 'Well, why the hell not?' he thought to himself.

      He went over to the bench, opening the jar on his way, staring shyly at the pale back spread out in front of him.

      "Get on with it, will you?" came a snotty response to his inaction. Harry suddenly got an idea. If the git thought he won this game, he is sorely mistaken. With one last deep breath, the Gryffindor swung his leg over the bench and sat down on Malfoy's silk-clad bum.

      The Slytherin startled. "What the hell are you doing? Get down Potter, I might be pretty but I'm not a bloody ponce!"

      "Get your head out of the gutter, you git, I'm going to do only what you asked me to do. I just want to be comfortable and bending over you is not what I consider comfy."

      Malfoy let out an annoyed breath but stopped trying to dislodge Harry, so the Gryffindor decided to start with the muscle reliever. He scooped up some of the green goo, warmed it in his hands for a second and then went to massage it into the blonde's shoulders. It didn't take long before Malfoy started making appreciative sounds.

      "Oh Merlin," he gasped when Harry met a particularly tight muscle right in between the shoulder blades.

      The Gryffindor rolled his eyes. "You go on like that and it won't be long before someone comes to check on us, thinking we're having a shagging session here."

      "Shut up, I told you I'm not a ponce," grunted the Slytherin but there wasn't much heat to it.

      Harry went on with the massage, for that was what it turned out to be, and secretly enjoyed the sound Malfoy was making underneath him. He soon realized, he might enjoy them a tad too much as he felt a familiar stirring in his groin. He decided to stop while he still could.

      "All done, Malfoy."

      The boy in question blinked up at him, a faraway expression on his face. "What? Yeah, right. Thanks. You can go now, Potter, as I have no use for you anymore," he forced out, not really looking like he meant it. Harry smiled at him, finished dressing himself and went to leave. Just before he opened the door though, he turned back one last time. "Oh by the way, Malfoy. I think you definitely are a ponce."


End file.
